Short Story Of Micah
On this cold December night, Micah is guided by radiant specs of amber on the lonesome street. The pungent aroma of cannabis disperses through Micah’s head while walking across the valley of snow. The single father was out to buy Advil for his daughter, who caught the flu due to the cold weather of the concrete jungle. The journey was rigorous as snow creeps into the cracks of his shoes causing Micah’s feet to become numb and moist like the soldiers in trench warfare. The tattered green trench coat was no help as wind crawls up his spine causing shivers across his body. Micah sees the flickering red Harlem’s Convenience sign glowing bright in the midst of the dark and gloomy skyline. The bell chimes as he enters the store; he explores the aisles in the search for
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medicine.
Suddenly, the door is swung open by a guy coarsely yelling, “Give me the money!”
His quavering hands are pointing a gun towards the owner; the soft click indicating the safety was removed.
Fear captures the owner’s eyes, while his trembling hands swiftly fill a black backpack with green paper. The robber rapidly leaves. Micah follows by slapping a ten dollar bill on the counter, attempting to exist the store as soon as possible.
The sound of police sirens repeat like a broken record player, while the snow absorbs the red and blue hue. The officer gets out of his car yelling, “Put your hands in the air!”
Micah ignores the pleas and continues walking thinking the command was for someone else. Brusquely, someone grabs a hold of his neck, throwing him down against the frosty sidewalk. His bag falls and the medicine escapes onto the snow. A pair of black boots continuously kicks Micah’s face while he reaches for the medicine, hoping it will not get ruined by the snow.
“ I’m innocent,” were the last words Micah cries.
It was too late. Gunshots go off like fireworks on New Years; the deafening sirens get louder. Micah’s face slowly turns blue as his chocolate skin is devoured in crimson fluid, stained by the colour representing the protectors of law another innocent black male
dies.
medicine.
Suddenly, the door is swung open by a guy coarsely yelling, “Give me the money!”
His quavering hands are pointing a gun towards the owner; the soft click indicating the safety was removed.
Fear captures the owner’s eyes, while his trembling hands swiftly fill a black backpack with green paper. The robber rapidly leaves. Micah follows by slapping a ten dollar bill on the counter, attempting to exist the store as soon as possible.
The sound of police sirens repeat like a broken record player, while the snow absorbs the red and blue hue. The officer gets out of his car yelling, “Put your hands in the air!”
Micah ignores the pleas and continues walking thinking the command was for someone else. Brusquely, someone grabs a hold of his neck, throwing him down against the frosty sidewalk. His bag falls and the medicine escapes onto the snow. A pair of black boots continuously kicks Micah’s face while he reaches for the medicine, hoping it will not get ruined by the snow.
“ I’m innocent,” were the last words Micah cries.
It was too late. Gunshots go off like fireworks on New Years; the deafening sirens get louder. Micah’s face slowly turns blue as his chocolate skin is devoured in crimson fluid, stained by the colour representing the protectors of law another innocent black male
dies.